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by kirkmills



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Dark Emma Swan, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-11 01:11:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4415306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirkmills/pseuds/kirkmills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter where she keeps it, or how long she holds it, no matter how closely she clutches it to her – the metal always remains cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> I was going to write a cute little Dark!Swan oneshot to get back in the saddle of this writing life, but I'm me, so it's two parts of actually dark angsty shit. I'd say I'm sorry but angst is lifeblood lbr. Unbeta'd because I'm lazy af.

No matter where she keeps it, or how long she holds it, no matter how closely she clutches it to her – the metal always remains cold.

To start with it sits on top of the fireplace, but it looks like a trophy up there, and she isn’t proud of its existence, she isn’t happy, doesn’t want to display it like a prize. It’s not a trophy, so she moves it. It sits on her desk for a while, but she doesn’t ever move it so it begins to get buried. She can’t have that, won’t have that. It mustn’t be lost. She debates where to put it next, because there are appropriate places and inappropriate places and right places and wrong places but she’s not sure quite how they correspond. In the end there’s no other option for her, the right place might not be the appropriate place, but it’s the only place she wants it to be. So Regina places the dagger carefully under her pillow, and every night she curls around it and wishes for the heat of her body to warm it.

It still remains cold.

 

.

 

When Emma eventually crawls out of the woodwork for the first time it’s to try and steal Henry away, and Regina watches in horror as their son recoils from the other woman in a way he never has before. It’s an uncomfortable mirroring of what she and Henry’s relationship used to be. It’s not something she ever imagined Emma and Henry’s relationship would be, and it’s not something she wants it to be either. Not anymore.

It’s easy enough to shake Emma off the first time though, her power’s still young, fresh, and she doesn’t know how to use it. The worst she has to offer is added snark, and that Regina can counter without so much as blinking.

It’s not until she returns home and retreats to her study that she lets the actual weight of any of Emma’s comments fall upon her, and even then she shakes her head and decides to ignore them, focusing instead on how to help the woman.

It doesn’t take long though, for Emma to come into her true strength. She always was a quick learner

Regina finds it vaguely amusing that she goes after the Pirate first. When the Charmings show up at her door, breathless, and tell her Emma attacked him she can’t help feeling the slightest bit smug, until they recount how he’d pleaded for his life to be spared, agreed to join her.

The coward.

The alliance doesn’t last long however, and Regina almost regrets her former smugness when she’s face to face with Hook hanging from her apple tree, his separated head proudly on display.

It’s Henry’s face when he sees the body that persuades her she has to try talking to Emma again. Everyone tries to warn her against it, but the determination has already set in. She won’t let this happen. That’s one more kill for Emma, one more dark spot on a darkening heart. She needs to stop this.

She will not let Emma become her.

 

.

 

She finds her in the forest, standing over a body she has to stare at for a solid five minutes to believe is truly who she thinks it is.

“Funny thing about predecessors,” Emma muses without turning around. “No matter how much you respect them, they really need to die for you to blossom.

Regina stares transfixed, eyes following the blood trickling from Gold’s blank, unseeing eyes.

“That’s where you failed, of course.” Emma finally turns around to examine her, and Regina is struck by the shadows beneath her eyes, the absence in her expression. “You could have become him, instead you chose to be his pawn.”

“I didn’t choose anything,” Regina whispers.

“We all choose our fate, Regina. It’s foolish to believe we have no control over it, _lazy_.”

“You believe you would have chosen this for yourself?” Regina asks her, voice still quiet. “You believe this is what the real Emma would have wanted for herself?”

“I _am_ Emma,” she hisses in response. “I am the only Emma Swan, the Emma Swan I chose to be.”

“You chose to save me, you weren’t choosing to be…this.”

“Is that what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night?” Emma snarls. Regina tightens her jaw. She won’t let it get to her, she knows what Emma did was for her. She _knows_ Emma didn’t want this.

“I saw this opportunity about to be wasted on you again so I _took_ it. And now I am everything you wished you could have been Regina. I am the evil you only _dreamed_ of.”

“You don’t want this,” Regina says again firmly. “It’s the Darkness saying that, not you. There isn’t an ounce of real darkness in you, Emma Swan.” It comes out dismissive, mocking, and Regina’s glad of it. She sounds much more confident than she truly feels.

It might have been a mistake though, as the next minute she’s on the ground, her lip bleeding. “The Darkness is part of me. It _is_ me. There is no Emma without it anymore, and the quicker you realize that, the safer you’ll find yourself.”

“Oh?” Regina raises a defiant eyebrow at her, wiping the blood from her lip.

“This fool?” Emma kicks at Gold’s face. “The useless pirate?” She laughs, then surges forwards to wrap a hand tightly around Regina’s throat, lifting her roughly back to her feet.

“They were just my little warm ups. I have plans for this town, Regina, and I fully intend to complete them no matter who gets in my way. If I were you,” she smirks, tightening her hold as she pulls Regina close. “I’d run away and hide.”

Regina does her best not to stumble when Emma releases her, though she can’t stop the hand that goes to rub her bruising throat.

“Run away, Regina,” Emma tells her angrily. “Run and hide.”

And just for a moment, Regina thinks there might be something behind it, but the ball of crackling magic flying towards her head makes it difficult to examine the other woman long enough to tell.

 

.

 

Regina had once told herself, back before the curse, back before her own heart had blackened, that Rumpelstiltskin was the cruellest, darkest creature she had ever encountered. That opinion had changed only once, briefly, when she had (foolishly, it turned out) believed she herself was the darkest thing in existence. Now, she’s not sure she was right either time.

Emma is cruel in a different way, one that might just be worse. Her cruelty isn’t ruthless like Regina’s had been, or manipulative like Rumpel’s. Emma’s cruelty is plain, simple coldness. She is cold and emotionless as the metal of the dagger that Regina clings to at night.

It cuts at Regina in a way the knife never could.

Emma moves systematically, almost clinical in her approach to destruction. She starts with Granny’s, no one knows why but Emma seems to find it funny – certainly when she finds that Granny herself didn’t make it out in time.

Regina gets there too late to do anything, arriving to a scene of smoke and gently smouldering timber. Ruby is sitting, singed, on the curb with Snow’s arms wrapped tight around her, and Regina feels her blood boil as she takes it all in.

It’s the sight of tear tracks making their way through the ash on Ruby’s cheeks that send Regina speeding home to pull the dagger from her pillow.

“Emma Swan,” she spits out, “I summon thee.”

“Took your time.”

Regina spins around to see the woman perched on the chair in the corner of her room, examining her nails with mild impatience.

“Interesting you waited for three people to die before actually _using_ the damn thing. Slipping back into old habits, Regina?” She raises an eyebrow at her.

Regina’s grip on the dagger tightens. “I no longer approve of controlling people and bending them to my will.”

Emma rises from the chair, crossing the room into Regina’s space. “Speaking from experience?” she whispers, and Regina hates the shiver it sends down her spine.

“Yes,” she replies simply.

“That might even be admirable… if it weren’t for the fact your own personal moral hang ups have cost people their lives. How’s that heart of yours looking, Regina? Nice and black?”

Regina doesn’t reply, simply examines Emma’s face. The shadows are darker, her eyes paler somehow, clouding. In many ways, she barely looks like Emma anymore.

“Don’t make me use this, Emma,” she says softly. “You don’t have to be this, you can stop yourself.”

Emma laughs. “Ever occur to you that I don’t _want_ to?”

“Not for a second,” Regina whispers, and she’s never meant anything more. “I know you, Emma. And I know what you’re feeling right now.”

Emma takes another small step closer, expression softening fractionally. “You do?”

Regina can’t help the surge of hope within her at the question. “I do.”

Emma’s face cracks into a twisted smile, and then there’s a hand plunging into Regina’s chest and ripping. She gasps at the pain, eyes widening as she observes her heart clutched in Emma’s hand. The imagery of it might be funny, if it weren’t for the fear coursing through her.

“And now?” Emma asks. “You know what this feels like, Regina, don’t you? To hold a life in your hands, to cradle someone’s mortality between your fingers.” She gives a tiny squeeze and Regina moans at the pain. “You know how satisfying it is to see someone squirm.”

Regina doesn’t answer, Emma squeezes tighter. “Don’t you?” she presses.

“Yes.”

Emma’s eyes glint in amusement, giving Regina’s heart one final squeeze before replacing it with far more care than Regina thinks is fair. The movement is almost gentle, and that’s somehow more painful than the ripping. Emma’s hand lingers, fingers trailing down to rest on Regina’s waist.

“You don’t need a heart to control me, though. You have the dagger.” Her other hand moves to trail up Regina’s jaw, fingers stroking feather light across her cheek. “You can make me do anything.”

Regina feels her throat tighten, squirming under Emma’s touch. “I don’t want to use the dagger on you,” she murmurs, “but I will.”

Emma regards her carefully, detachment in her eyes. “Seems I don’t need your heart to make you squirm, either.” Her lips pull up at one corner. “Though if I recall correctly, I never did.”

Regina resists the urge to reach out and touch Emma herself, instead shrugging backwards from her hands.

“Emma,” her voice is firm. “You have to stop.”

“No,” she replies, matter-of-fact. “I don’t. Not unless you make me.”

Regina looks down at the dagger hanging loose in her grip, then back to Emma. She doesn’t want to use it, but she can’t see another option. The woman won’t be reasoned with.

Her fingers tighten around the hilt, and she lifts the dagger into the air between them.

“I want you to stop,” she commands. “Stop the destruction, the killing. You have to stop.”

Emma hangs her head, demeanour one of submission, and Regina breathes a sigh of relief. “It’ll be okay, Emma,” she breathes, reaching out to put a hand on her arm. “We’ll get you back to you, I promise.”

Emma nods, meek, leaning into the hand on her arm.

Regina tightens her fingers around her slightly, allowing herself to breathe. This is a start at least.

Then Emma’s head snaps up again, and before Regina knows what’s happening the dagger has been ripped from her fingers and is plunging between her ribs.

Strangely, her only thought in that moment is how very cold the metal feels.

 

 


End file.
